The War of Two Queens (Blood And Ash Series Book 4)
The War of Two Queens: Chapter 2

Poppy

Through the maze of the pines outside the walled city of Massene, I caught sight of a silver and white wolven pacing ahead.

Arden kept low to the thick bushes cluttering the forest floor and soundlessly moved as he neared the edges of the Pinelands. The long and wide region of swampy woods bordered both Massene and Oak Ambler and stretched all the way to the coast of the Kingdom of Solis.

The land was full of insects that smelled of decay and fed from any visible patch of skin with the hunger of a Craven. There were things to be found slithering along the mossy ground if one looked long and hard enough. And in the trees, crude circles made of sticks or bones, vaguely resembling the Royal Crest of the Blood Crown, except that the line was at a slant—diagonal—as it pierced the center of the circle.

Massene sat nestled against what was known as the Dead Bones Clan territory.

We hadn’t seen any sign of the mysterious group of people who’d once lived where the Blood Forest now stood and apparently preferred to feed on the flesh of anything living—including mortals and wolven—but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. From the moment we’d entered the Pinelands, it’d felt like a hundred pairs of eyes tracked us.

For all those reasons, I was not a fan of the Pinelands. Although, I wasn’t sure if it was the cannibals or the snakes I disliked the most.

But if we were to seize Oak Ambler, the largest port city this far east, we would have to take Massene first. And we’d have to do it with only the wolven and a small battalion. They had arrived ahead of the larger armies led by…his father, the former King of Atlantia, Valyn Da’Neer. All but one draken traveled with those armies. But I hadn’t summoned the draken, awakening them from their slumber, only for them to burn through cities and people.

General Aylard, who led the newly arrived battalion, had been most displeased to have learned that and our plans for Massene. But I was the Queen, and two things were paramount to all.

Free our King.

And not make war like before, upending lives and leaving cities to become nothing more than mass burial sites. That wasn’t what he would want. That wasn’t what I wanted.

Massene was larger than both New Haven and Whitebridge, but smaller than Oak Ambler—and not as well guarded as the port city. But they weren’t helpless.

Still, we couldn’t wait any longer for Valyn and the other generals to arrive. The Ascended who lived behind those walls had been leading mortals into the woods, feeding from them, and leaving them to turn. The Craven attacks were becoming more frequent, and each group larger than the one before. Worse yet, according to our scouts, the city had gone quiet during the day. But at night…

There were screams.

Then they had killed three of our wolven patrolling these woods the day before, leaving only their heads on spikes at the Pompay border. I knew their names—would never forget them.

Roald. Krieg. Kyley.

And I could no longer wait.

Twenty-three days had passed since he’d given himself over to a monster who’d made him feel like a thing. Since I’d last seen him. Saw his golden eyes heat. Witnessed the dimple form first in his right cheek and then his left. Felt the touch of his flesh against mine or heard his voice. Twenty-three days.

The armored plates on my chest and shoulders tightened as I leaned forward on Setti, gaining Naill’s attention as the Atlantian rode to my left. I kept my grip on the warhorse’s reins firm, just as…he had taught me. I opened my senses, connecting with Arden.

A tangy, almost bitter taste filled my mouth. Anguish. And something acidic—anger.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” I glanced to my right. Shadows had gathered across Kieran Contou’s beige-brown features, the once-bonded wolven and now Advisor to the Crown. “But he’s upset.”

Arden stopped the restless patrol as we approached, his vibrant blue gaze swinging to me. He whined softly, the sound tearing at my heart. Arden’s unique imprint reminded me of the salty sea, but I didn’t try to speak to him through the Primal notam since the wolven wasn’t yet comfortable communicating that way. “What’s wrong?”

He nodded his large silver-and-white-streaked head toward the Rise of Massene and then turned, prowling through the trees.

Kieran held up a closed fist, halting those behind us as he and Naill moved ahead, navigating the heavily clustered pines. I waited, reaching for the pouch secured to my hip. The small wooden horse Malik had carved for…his sixth birthday pressed against the marriage imprint on my palm.

Malik.

The once-heir to the Atlantian throne. He had been taken captive in the process of freeing his brother. And both of them had been betrayed by the wolven he’d once loved.

The sadness I’d felt at learning that Shea had done such a thing was now overshadowed by the grief and anger that Malik had done the same. I tried not to let the anger grow. Malik had been held captive for a century. Only the gods knew what had been done to him or what he’d had to do to survive. That didn’t excuse his betrayal, though. Didn’t lessen the blow it dealt. But he was also a victim.

Make his death as quick and painless as possible.

What Valyn Da’Neer had asked of me before I left Atlantia sat heavily on my heart. It was a weight I would bear. A father shouldn’t have to strike down his own son. I hoped it didn’t come to that, but I also couldn’t see how it wouldn’t.

Kieran stopped, his emotions sudden and intense, slamming into me in bitter waves of…horror.

Rattled by his reaction, my stomach knotted with dread. “What is it?” I asked, seeing that Arden had stopped once more.

“Dear gods,” Naill uttered, jerking back on his saddle at whatever he saw, his deep brown skin taking on a grayish pallor. His horror was so potent it scratched against my shields like bitter claws.

When there was no answer, trepidation grew, encompassing my entire being. I eased Setti forward between Kieran and Naill, to where the Massene Rise gates were visible through the pines.

At first, I couldn’t make sense of what I saw—the cross-like shapes hanging from the massive gates.

Dozens of them.

My breathing turned ragged. Eather thrummed in my tightening chest. Bile crept up my throat. I jerked back. Before I lost my balance and toppled from the saddle, Naill’s arm snapped out, catching my shoulder.

Those shapes were…

Bodies.

Men and women stripped bare, impaled at the wrists and feet to Massene’s iron and limestone gates, their bodies displayed for any to look upon—

Their faces…

Dizziness rushed me. Their faces weren’t bare. They were all shrouded in the same veil I had been forced to wear, held in place by gold chains gleaming dully in the moonlight.

A storm of rage replaced the disbelief as Setti’s reins slipped from my fingers. Eather, the Primal essence of the gods that flowed through all the many different bloodlines, throbbed in my chest. Far stronger in me because what was inside me came from Nyktos, the King of Gods. The essence merged with icy-hot fury as I stared at the bodies, my chest heaving with too-shallow, too-quick breaths. A thin metallic taste coated the inside of my mouth as I looked behind the horror on the gate, to the tops of the distant spiral towers, each a stained ivory against the rapidly darkening sky.

Above, the pines began trembling, showering us with thin needles. And that anger, the horror at what I saw, built and built until the corners of my vision turned silver.

My gaze shifted to those who walked the battlements of the Rise, on either side of the gate where the bodies of fellow mortals were so cruelly displayed, and what filled my mouth, clogged my throat, came from within me. It was shadowy and smoky and a little sweet, rolling across my tongue, and it came from a place deep inside me. This cold, aching hollowness that had woken in the last twenty-three days.

It tasted like the promise of retribution.

Of wrath.

And death.

I tasted death as I watched the Rise Guards stop mere feet from the bodies to speak to one another, laughing at something that was said. My gaze narrowed on them as the essence pulsed in my chest, and my will rose. A sharp gust of wind, colder than a winter’s morning, rolled across the Rise, lifting the hems of the veils and whipping around the guards on the wall, sending several sliding back toward the edge.

They stopped laughing then, and I knew the smiles I couldn’t see faded.

“Poppy.” Kieran leaned from his saddle, clasping the nape of my neck beneath the thick braid. “Calm. You need to replace calm. If you do something now before we know exactly how many are on the Rise, it will alert them to our presence. We must wait.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to calm, but Kieran was right. If we wanted to take Massene with minimal loss of life—those innocents who lived inside the walls and were routinely turned into Craven and hung from the gates—I needed to get control of my emotions and abilities.

And I could.

If I wanted to.

In the past weeks, I’d spent a lot of time on the Primal notam, working with the wolven to see how much distance we could put between us and still be able to communicate. Other than Kieran, I’d had the most success with Delano, whom I could reach deep within the Wastelands through the notam. But I’d also focused on harnessing the eather so that what I pictured in my mind became my will and was carried out by the energy instantaneously.

So I could fight like a god.

Fisting my hands, I willed the eather away. It took every part of my being to stop myself from allowing the promise of death to flow out from me.

“You okay?” Kieran asked.

“No.” I swallowed. “But I’m in control.” I looked at Naill. “Are you okay?”

The Atlantian shook his head. “I can’t understand how anyone is capable of doing such a thing.”

“Neither can I.” Kieran looked past me to Naill as Arden backed away from the tree line. “I think it’s good that we can’t.”

I forced my attention to the battlements along the top of the wall. I couldn’t look too long at the bodies. I couldn’t allow myself to really think about them. Just like I couldn’t allow myself to think about what he was going through—what was being done to him.

A featherlight brush against my thoughts came, followed by the springy-fresh imprint of Delano’s mind. The wolven was scouting the length of the Rise to gain information on exactly how many were guarding it. Meyaah Liessa?

I swallowed a sigh at the old Atlantian phrase that roughly translated to my Queen. The wolven knew they didn’t have to refer to me as such, but many still did. However, where Delano did it out of what he felt was a show of respect, Kieran often called me that to simply annoy me.

I followed the imprint back to Delano. Yes?

There are twenty at the northern gates. A beat of silence passed. And…

His grief tainted the bond. I briefly closed my eyes. Mortals on the gate.

Yes.

The essence throbbed. How many?

Two dozen, he answered, and violent energy pressed against my skin. Emil is confident he can take them out quickly, he said, referencing the often-irreverent Elemental Atlantian.

My eyes opened. Massene only had two gates—one to the north, and this one, which faced the east. “Delano says there are twenty on the northern gates,” I shared. “Emil believes he can take them.”

“He can,” Kieran confirmed. “He’s as good with a crossbow as you are.”

I met his stare. “Then it’s time.”

Holding my gaze, he nodded. The three of us lifted the hoods on our cloaks, hiding the armor Naill and I wore.

“I really wish you had some sort of armor,” I told Kieran.

“Armor would make it more difficult for me if I need to shift,” he stated. “And at the end of the day, no armor is a hundred percent effective. There are weak spots—places those men on the Rise know to exploit.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Naill muttered as we quietly rode toward the edge of the pines.

Kieran smirked. “That’s what I’m here for.”

I shook my head as I searched for Delano’s imprint, not allowing myself to think of the lives that my order would soon end. Take them out.

Delano quickly responded. Gladly, meyaah Liessa. We will soon join you at the east gate.

“Be ready,” I said out loud as I turned my focus to those on the Rise before us.

I lifted my stare to the moonlight-drenched battlement. Three dozen individuals who probably had no choice but to join the Rise Guard stood there. There was little opportunity for most in Solis, especially if they weren’t born into families steeped in the power and privilege given by the Ascended. Those who lived so far from the capital. Much like most eastern locales, with the exception of Oak Ambler, Massene wasn’t a glittering and wealthy city, mainly consisting of farmers who tended crops that fed most of Solis.

But those who laughed and chatted as if those impaled to that gate did not affect them? That was a whole different breed of apathy and just as cold and empty as an Ascended.

Just like with Delano, I didn’t think of the lives about to be cut short by my will.

I couldn’t.

Vikter had taught me that ages ago. That you could never consider the life of another when they held a sword pointed at your throat.

There was no sword at my throat now, but there were things much worse held to the throats of those inside the Rise.

I summoned the eather, and it responded at once, rushing to the surface of my skin. Silver tinted my vision as Kieran and Naill lifted crossbows, each outfitted with three arrows.

“I’ll take those farther down the Rise,” Kieran said.

“I’ll get those to the left,” Naill confirmed.

Which left the dozen by the gates. The eather swirled inside me, pouring into my blood, somehow hot and icy at the same time. It flooded that hollow place inside me as every ounce of my being focused on those by the gate.

By the poor, veiled mortals.

My will left me at the exact moment the image of what I wanted filled my mind. The snap of their necks, one after another in quick succession, joined the snap of released arrows. There was no time for any of them to scream, to alert those who may be near. Kieran and Naill quickly reloaded, taking out the others before the ones whose necks I’d broken even began to fall.

But they joined those struck by arrows, falling forward into the nothingness. I flinched at the sound of their bodies hitting the ground.

We rode out, crossing the clearing as another cloaked figure joined me on horseback, coming from the left of the Rise. A snow-white wolven followed Emil, keeping close to the wall as I quickly dismounted.

“Those sons of bitches,” Emil growled, head tilted back as he looked up at the gates. “The utter disrespect.”

“I know.” Kieran followed me as I went to the chain securing the gate.

Anger brimmed from Emil as I clasped the cool chains.

Arden stirred restlessly near the horses’ hooves as Emil quickly dismounted, joining me. Naill pulled them forward as Delano brushed against my legs. I took them in my hand and closed my eyes. I’d discovered that the eather could be used in the same manner as draken fire. While it would not kill a Revenant—or have any effect on them, really—it could melt iron. Not in large quantities, but enough.

“We need to hurry,” Kieran said quietly. “Dawn is approaching.”

I nodded as a silvery aura flared around my hands, rippling over the chain while Emil peered in through the gate, searching for signs of other guards. I frowned as the glow pulsed, and pieces of the metal appeared to darken—thicken almost as if it were tendrils of shadow. Blinking, the wisps disappeared. Or were never there. The light was not the greatest, and even though I was a god, my eyesight and hearing remained annoyingly mortal.

The chain fell apart.

“Nifty talent,” Naill remarked.

I sent him a brief smile as he and Emil quickly and quietly moved the gate forward.

The Pinelands came alive as the gate opened, twigs snapping as the wolven prowled forward in a sleek wave of several dozen, led by Kieran’s sister.

Vonetta was the same fawn color as Kieran, not nearly as large as him when in wolven form, but no less fierce. Our gazes briefly met as I found her imprint—white oak and vanilla. Be safe, I told her.

Always, came the quick reply as someone closed the gates behind us.

Turning from her, I fixed my gaze on the silent, stone, one-story barracks several yards back from the Rise. Beyond them and the fields of crops, the outline of small, squat buildings could be seen against Cauldra Manor and the looming horizon that was already becoming a lighter blue.

Opting for the short sword instead of the wolven dagger, I withdrew it from where it was secured to my back, handle tilted downward, as we raced forward under the darkness of the pines lining the wide, cobblestone road. We halted before the barracks, the wolven crouching low to the ground.

I pressed into the scratchy bark of a pine as I peered into the windows of the gas-lamp-lit barracks. A few people moved about inside. It was only a matter of time before they took note of the fact that no one was on the Rise.

Kieran joined me, his hand landing on the tree above mine. “We probably have around twenty minutes before dawn arrives,” he said. “The Ascended should already be retiring for the night.”

I nodded. There were no Temples in Massene, or a Radiant Row like in Masadonia, where the wealthy mortals lived side by side with the Ascended. In Massene, all the vamprys lived within Cauldra Manor.

“Remember,” I said, tightening my grip on the sword. “We harm no mortal who lowers their weapon. We harm no Ascended who surrenders.”

There were murmurs and soft snarls of agreement. Kieran turned to Naill and nodded. The Atlantian slipped forward and then moved with blinding speed, reaching the side of the barracks. He dragged the edge of his sword along the building, creating an ear-aching grinding sound against the stone.

“Well,” Emil drawled. “That’s one way of doing it.”

A door flung open, and a guard stepped out, blade in hand. His head whipped from side to side, but Naill had already disappeared into the pines.

“Who goes there?” the guard demanded as several more spilled out from the barracks. The man squinted into the darkness. “Who’s out here?”

I pulled away from the pine.

“Does it really have to be you?” Kieran questioned in a low voice.

“Yes.”

“The actual answer is no.”

“No, it’s not.” I eased past him.

Kieran sighed but made no move to stop me. “One of these days, you will realize you’re a Queen,” he hissed.

“Not likely,” Emil remarked.

I walked out of the pines, my senses open. The men turned to me, not having realized yet that no one was on the Rise.

“Who I am is not important,” I said, feeling the ripple of surprise that came with their realization that a female stood before them. “What is, is that your city has been breached, and you’re surrounded. We are not here to take from you. We’re here to end the Blood Crown. Lay down your weapons, and you will not be harmed.”

“And if we don’t lay down our swords to some Atlantian bitch?” the man demanded, and tart unease and anxiety radiated from a few of the men behind him. “What then?”

My brows rose. These guards were aware that a small portion of the Atlantian armies had been camped out at the edges of Pompay. They weren’t, however, aware that a draken was among us.

Or that the Atlantian Queen was also with the encampment and currently the bitch they were speaking to.

The words burned to say, but I spoke them. “You die.”

“Is that so?” The man laughed, and I stifled the rising disappointment, reminding myself that many mortals had no idea who they served. Who the real enemy was. “Am I or my men supposed to be afraid of a pitiful army that sends overgrown dogs and bitches to fight their battles?” He looked over his shoulder. “Looks like we’ll have another head to put on the pike.” He faced me. “But first, we’ll make real good use of that mouth and whatever is under that cloak, won’t we, boys?”

There were a few rough laughs, but that tartness increased from others.

I tilted my head. “This is your last chance. Lay down your swords and surrender.”

The silly mortal swaggered forward. “How about you lay down on your back and spread them legs?”

Hot anger pressed against my back as I turned my gaze to him. “No, thank you.”

“Wasn’t really asking.” He took one more step. That was as far as he made it.

Vonetta sprang out of the darkness, landing on the guard. His shout ended with a vicious clamp of her jaws on his throat as she took him down.

Another charged forward, raising his sword at Vonetta as she dragged the foul-mouthed man across the ground. I shot forward, catching his arm as I thrust my blade deep into his belly. Blue eyes set in a far-too-young face widened as I yanked the sword back out.

“Sorry,” I murmured, shoving him away.

Several of the guards lurched toward Vonetta and me, only to realize that we were not who they should be worried about—a moment too late.

The wolven came out of the pines, swarming the guards in a matter of seconds. The crunch of bone and sharp, too-short screams echoed in my head as Kieran drew his blade across a guard’s throat.

“When will mortals stop referring to us as overgrown dogs?” he asked, pushing the fallen guard aside. “Do they not know the difference between a dog and a wolf?”

“I’m going to say no.” Emil stalked past the one who’d gone at Vonetta, spitting on the dead man. He looked up at me. “What? He was going to knife Netta in the back. I’m not about that.”

I couldn’t really argue against that as I turned to the soldiers near the back, the ones I’d felt the unease from. Five of them. Their swords lay at their feet. The sickly bitterness of fear coated my skin as Delano stalked forward, blood-streaked teeth bared. The stench of urine hit the air.

“W-we surrender,” one chattered, shaking.

“Delano,” I called softly, and the wolven halted, growling at the men. “How many Ascended are here?”

“There are t-ten,” the man answered, his skin as pale as the waning moonlight.

“Would they be returning to Cauldra Manor?” Kieran asked, coming to stand beside me.

“They should already be there,” another said. “They’ll be under guard. They have been since the Duke became aware of your encampment.”

I glanced at Naill, who led Setti and the other horses forward. “Did all of them take part in what was done to those on the gates?”

The third one—an older man than most on the Rise, in his third or fourth decade of life—said, “None of them resisted Duke Silvan when he gave the orders.”

“Who were those they chose to kill?” Kieran asked.

Another wave of disappointment swelled, weighing heavily on my chest. I wanted to—no, I needed to—believe that there were other Ascended like…like Ian, my brother, even if we shared no blood. There had to be.

“They did it at will,” the first guard, the one who’d spoken his surrender, shared. He looked close to vomiting. “They just picked people out. Young. Old. Didn’t matter. Ain’t no one who was causing trouble. No one causes trouble.”

“The same with the others,” another younger guard said. “Those, they led out beyond the Rise.”

Kieran focused on the mortal, his jaw clenched. “You know what was done to them?”

“I do,” the eldest of them said after the others spoke. “They led them out there. Fed from them. Left them to turn. No one believed me when I said that was what happened.” He jerked his chin at the ones beside him. “They said I was crazy, but I know what I saw. I just didn’t think…” His gaze went to the gates. “I thought maybe I was crazy.”

He just hadn’t considered what all the Ascended were capable of.

“You were right,” Kieran replied. “If it brings you any relief to know that.”

Sensing that the knowledge did very little, I turned to Naill, sheathing my sword. “Make sure they remain in the barracks. Unharmed.” I gestured at Arden. “Stay with Naill.”

Naill nodded as he handed Setti’s reins to me. Gripping the straps on the saddle, I hoisted myself up. The others followed suit.

“Did you speak the truth?” the eldest asked, stopping as we guided the horses out from the barracks. “That you’re not here to take from us?”

“I did.” My grip firmed on Setti’s reins. “We’re not here to take. We’re here to end the Blood Crown.”

Dipping under a guard’s outstretched arm, the edges of the cloak fluttered around my legs as I spun, thrusting the sword deep into the man’s back. I twisted sharply, ducking as someone threw a knife in my general direction. Delano leapt over me, digging into the guard with his claws and teeth as I popped up.

None of the guards outside of Cauldra surrendered.

The pinkish rays of dawn streaked across the sky as I whirled, grunting and kicking out, pushing a guard back. He fell into Vonetta’s path. Stalking toward the barred doors, I brought the sword down, clanging off another as Emil came up behind him, dragging his blade across the man’s throat. Hot blood sprayed the air. Kieran jabbed out with a dagger up under the chin of another guard, clearing the path before me.

There was so much death here. Bodies scattered about the bare courtyard as blood pooled on the dull ivory steps and splattered the exterior walls of the manor. Summoning the Primal essence as I lifted a hand, bright silvery light funneled down my arm and sparked from my fingers. The eather arced across the space, slamming into the doors. Wood splintered and gave way, exploding into fine shards.

The receiving hall, adorned with crimson banners and bearing the Blood Crown’s crest instead of the white-and-gold that hung in Masadonia, was empty.

“Underground,” Kieran said, stalking to our right. Blood dotted his cheeks. “They would’ve gone underground.”

“And you know how to get there?” I caught up to him, reaching out with my senses to ensure that he wasn’t hurt.

“Cauldra appears like New Haven.” He dragged his hand over his face, wiping away the blood that wasn’t his. “They’ll have chambers underground, near the cells.”

It was almost impossible not to think of the cells under New Haven that I’d spent time in. But Kieran was right as he found the entrance along the hall on the right.

He kicked in the door, revealing a narrow, torch-lit stairwell. He sent me a wild grin that caused my breath to catch because it reminded me of…of him. “What did I say?”

My brows pinched as Delano and Vonetta streaked past us, joined by a blackish-gray wolven I recognized as Sage. They entered the stairwell before us. “Why do they do that?”

“Because you’re the Queen.” Kieran entered.

“You keep telling her that.” Emil fell into step behind me. “And you keep reminding her…”

I rolled my eyes as we hurried down the musty-scented stairs that stroked a memory that refused to wiggle free. “I may be the Queen, but I’m also a god, and therefore harder to kill than any of you. I should go first,” I told him. To be honest, none of us had any idea what would kill me, but we did know that I was basically immortal.

I felt a skip in my chest. I would outlive everyone in this manor, some who had become people I cared about. Those I called friends. I would outlive Tawny—who would eventually wake from the injury the shadowstone blade had caused. I couldn’t allow myself to believe anything else, even though I knew, deep down, that it couldn’t be good for someone to sleep that long.

I would outlive Kieran and…and even him.

Gods, why was I even thinking about that right now? Don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems. That was what he’d said once.

I really needed to learn how to follow that advice.

“Harder to kill doesn’t mean impossible to kill,” Kieran shot over his shoulder.

“Says the one not in armor,” I snapped back.

He let out a rough laugh, but the sound was lost in the sudden, shrill shriek that caused tiny bumps to spread across my skin.

“Craven,” I whispered as we rounded the curve in the stairwell, and Kieran stepped into a faintly lit hall. He stopped directly in front of me, and I bounced off him.

Kieran stared.

So did I.

“Good gods,” Emil murmured.

The cells were full of Craven. They pressed against the bars, arms outstretched, and lips peeled back, revealing their four jagged fangs. Some were fresh, their skin only now taking on the ghastly shade of death. Others were older, those with sunken cheeks, torn lips, and sagging skin.

“Why in the hell would they have Craven in here?” Emil asked over the pained, hungry howling.

“They probably let them out from time to time to terrorize the people,” I said numbly. “The Ascended would blame the Atlantians. Saying they turned the Craven. But they’d also blame the people, claiming they angered the gods somehow and this was their punishment. That the gods let the Atlantians do this. Then the Ascended would say they spoke to the gods on their behalf, assuaging their anger.”

“People believed that?” Emil eased past several of the bloodstained hands.

“It’s all they’ve ever been allowed to believe,” I told him, looking away from the Craven.

The sounds of pawing and scratching led us past the cells—beyond what we’d have to deal with later—and down another hall, through crates of wine and ale. We found the wolven just as they tore through the double wooden doors at the end.

A vampry came flying out of the chamber, a stream of sable hair and fangs bared—

Delano took her down, latching onto the vampry’s throat as he dug into her chest with his front paws, tearing through clothing and skin.

I turned away, but there was nowhere to look as the two female wolven did the same with two more that attacked. And then there were only pieces left.

“That looks like it would give them an upset stomach,” I said.

“I’m trying not to think about that,” Emil murmured, fixing his stare on the Ascended who stood within the chamber, frozen with their weapons all but forgotten in their hands. “I bet they’re trying not to think of that either.”

“Any of you want to meet the same fate?” Kieran asked, extending his sword to the chunks on the floor.

There was no answer from within, but as more wolven filled the hall behind us, the Ascended dropped their weapons.

“We surrender,” a male bit out, the last to throw his sword aside.

“Nice of you to do that,” Kieran drawled as he kicked the swords out of their reach.

And it was. Nice of them. But it was also too late. There would be no second chances given to any Ascended who’d taken part in what had been done to those on their gates and what was happening in this city.

I did my level best not to step on what remained of the Ascended on the floor as I entered the chamber, flanked closely by Vonetta and Delano. I sheathed the sword and lowered my hood.

“Congratulations,” the same male spoke. “You took Massene. But you will not take Solis.”

The moment he opened his mouth, I knew this had to be Duke Silvan. It was the air of self-assured superiority. He was an icy blond, tall and well-formed in his fine satin shirt and breeches. He was attractive. After all, very few things in Solis were valued higher than beauty. When he looked upon me, he saw the scars, and that was all he saw.

And all I saw was the blood that stained their expensive clothing. It marked each tailored shirt and bodice.

I stopped in front of the Duke, staring into pitch-black eyes that reminded me of her. The Blood Queen. My mother. Hers weren’t this dark, pitiless, empty, and cold. But she had the same eerie spark of light—though much deeper—that didn’t require light to hit their faces at the right angle to see. It wasn’t until that very moment that I realized the trace of light in their eyes was a glimmer of eather.

It made sense for them to carry a trace. The blood of an Atlantian was used to Ascend them, and all Atlantians carried eather in their blood. It was how the Ascended achieved their near immortality and strength. Their speed and ability to heal.

“Do any Ascended remain?”

Duke Silvan’s sneer was a work of art. “Fuck off.”

Beside me, Kieran’s sigh was so impressive, I would’ve thought it rattled the walls.

“I’ll ask one more time,” I said, counting quickly. There were ten. Or parts of ten, anyway, but I wanted to be sure that was all of them. “Are there any more?”

A long moment passed, and then the Duke said, “You will still kill us, no matter how I answer.”

“I would’ve given you a chance.”

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“To live without taking from mortals,” I said. “To live among Atlantians.”

He stared at me for a moment and then laughed. “You really think that’s possible?” Another laugh parted his pale lips. “I know who you are. I’d recognize that face anywhere.”

Kieran stepped forward.

I held up a hand, stopping him.

The Duke smirked. “You haven’t been gone long enough to forget how mortals are, Maiden. How they are so damn gullible. How much they fear. What they will do to protect their families. What they will believe to protect themselves. You really think they will simply accept the Atlantians?”

I said nothing.

Emboldened, he stepped closer. “And you think the Ascended will do…what? Trust that you will allow us to live if we do whatever it is you want?”

“You trusted the Blood Queen,” I said. “And her name isn’t even Ileana. Nor is she an Ascended.”

Several sharp inhales sounded, but the Duke showed no sign that what I’d said was news to him.

“So,” I continued, “I imagine anything is possible. But as I said, I would’ve given you another chance. You sealed your fate when you ordered those people to be impaled on your gates.”

His nostrils flared. “The veils were a lovely touch, weren’t they?”

“Very lovely,” I replied as Delano emitted a low growl.

“We didn’t—” one of the other Ascended started, a male with deep brown hair.

“Shut up,” the Duke hissed. “You will die. I will die. All of us will.”

“Correct.”

His head jerked back to me.

“What matters is how you die,” I stated. “I don’t know if bloodstone is a painful death. I’ve seen it up close and personal, and it appears to be so. I’m thinking if I sever the spine, there would only be a second of pain.”

The Duke swallowed as his smirk faded.

“But what was far more painful was how the ones in pieces died.” I paused, watching the corners of his mouth tighten. “Answer my question, and your death will be quick. Don’t? I will make sure you feel as if it lasts a lifetime. That’s up to you.”

He stared, and I practically saw the wheels turning in his mind, searching for a way out of this.

“It’s a terrible thing, isn’t it?” I stepped closer to him, and the essence pulsed in my chest. “To know that death is finally coming for you. To see it right before you. To be in the same chamber with it, for seconds, minutes, longer, and know that you can do nothing to prevent it.” My voice lowered, became softer and colder…and smoky. “Not a single thing. It’s horrifying, the inevitability of it. The knowledge that if you still have a soul, it is surely bound for only one place. Deep down, you must be so afraid.”

A small, visible shudder coursed through him.

“Just like those mortals you led outside the Rise, tore into, fed off, and left to turn. Just like those in the cells and those on the gates.” I searched his pale features. “They must have been so terrified to learn that death had come for them at the hands of those they believed protected them.”

He swallowed once more. “There are no more Ascended. There never has been. No one wants to rule at the edge of the realm.” His chest rose with a deep breath. “I know who you are. I know what you are. It’s why you’re still standing, alive to this day. It’s not because you’re a god,” he said, his lip curling. “It’s because of the blood that courses through your veins.”

My spine stiffened. “If you say it’s because of who my mother is, I will not make your death quick.”

The Duke laughed, but the sound was as cold and harsh as that space inside me. “You think you’re a great liberator, don’t you? Come to free the mortals from the Blood Crown. Free your precious husband.”

Everything in me stilled.

“Kill the Queen—your mother—and take these lands in the name of Atlantia?” The spark of eather was in his eyes then. The corner of his lips curved up. “You will do no such thing. You will win no war. All you will accomplish is terror. All you will do is spill so much blood that the streets flood with it, and the kingdoms will drown in rivers of crimson. All you will liberate is death. All that you and those who follow will replace here is death. And if your love is lucky enough, he will be dead before he sees what’s become of—”

Unsheathing my bloodstone dagger, I thrust it into his chest, piercing his heart and stopping the poisonous words before they could penetrate too deeply. And he felt it—the first splintering of his being, the first tearing of his skin and bone. And I, for one, was grateful for that.

His soulless eyes widened in surprise as fine lines appeared in the pale skin of his cheeks. The cracks deepened into a web of fractures that spread down his throat and under the collar of the tailored satin shirt he wore. I held his stare as the tiny ember of eather went out of his black eyes.

And, only then, for the first time in twenty-three days, did I feel nothing at all.